


You Can't Kick a Plane

by TheDoodyPoo



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Adventure Time - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoodyPoo/pseuds/TheDoodyPoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil isn't born, it's made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Kick a Plane

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those works that is born from a need to have a back story for a character that doesn't have a back story. I got the idea in my head and I just had to make it real. I wanted it to feel real and apart of the universe. Adventure Time is a great universe for that since time and space is bent so much. I wanted it to be short, so it is. Be gentle, but i definitely appreciate feedback because I'm trying to improve as a fic writer in general.

He had become obsessed. It's was all weighing too heavy on his mind, so heavy he was breaking apart at his foundation. How could the world be this way? This unfair. This mindless and malicious. What could the point possibly be? I mean he had looked as hard at this puzzle as long as he could. He out thought everything. He out thought the crumbling economy and society that threatened him, his family, and his people. He had out thought all the competition that stood in the way of him and his position of power. He had out thought war and kept it at bay even though the world was going ravenous for it. He had finally found the ultimate power, a book, a way to escape this terrible cycle of violence. He was so sure if he got the book things would be okay. More than okay, they would finally be better. 

But then this, the love of his life murdered in cold blood and with no clue of who had committed the heinous crime. Was it his fault? He had made hard decisions in the past to maintain peace, as do all leaders. He had gained many enemies, as do most with power trying to do good. Though he thought these enemies would be evil, but he was surprised to find the people who hated him the most were the people he was trying to save. Had these people done this? They said they saw a darkness in him that was preventing him from seeing the truth. They said even though he strived for peace, the things he did to ensure it had scarred him and this land forever. He stood his ground and stayed passive to try and maintain the peace, but he was still met with resistance. A resistance with the greatest hero ever at its head. They said they weren't content to wait and let this “witch king run their community into the ground.” They didn’t see what he was trying to achieve. They didn't care who was in charge and they made it known they would do what they had to to achieve their goals. Was this what they felt they had to do? Murder his only light to prove a point?

The longer that he sat there racking his brain for answers, the more questions he found himself facing. No matter how hard he twisted his hair in his hands or sobbingly pounded his fist on his desk, he gained no knowledge or catharsis. He screamed and cried; furiously wrote and ripped it all to shreds. He seemed to be swirling further and further out of control. He was on the verge of slipping into madness when finally he saw it. The solution to the puzzle. There was no way to stop the madness of people. There was no way to stop the suffering that seeds its way into all of our existence. No matter what, the violent cycle of life, death and chaos would continue, because that was existence after all. The problem was apparent.

So, there was only one logical answer. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. Maybe he had, but it wouldn't have made sense at that time. He had to have seen everything and thought out every point for a truth this big to reveal itself. He had to truly understand suffering. If the problem is the cycle, then why not break that cycle. And, if the violence of the cycle is inherently attached to life and existence, then one would simply have to put an end to existence all together. That sounded impossible until he remembered, the book. It was said to hold an ancient power. The power to change the world how he saw fit. If we can see the story, why not write whatever ending we want, right? If we know the universal source code, then why not program things how we see fit? Why not break the cycle of life and suffering? He had the book. He knew the way. It would only take patience, infinite patience. The patience to wait out time and space and the coming and going of heroes, but he would have no problem doing that. He had nothing left to lose. No one left to wait with and an infinite drive to end this torturous existence once and for all.

He had tried his entire life to be good. To be the fair savior that everyone needed. To bring an egalitarian society to the world. A world where there were no masters, no servants, and no suffering. A world of peace. It was clear to him now, that peace and life can never exist in harmony. Life is violent and dark, and it needs a violent and dark power to control it. It is chaos begging for a ruler, and he would be that ruler. He would be the strong hand they needed. He would use the book, the ancient power, to take control of this land and its people. With their minds and lives in his hands he would lead them to true peace, to the infinite silence, the sacred darkness. He glared menacingly at the book emblazoned with a skull and sword on its cover. As he did so, his eyes began to glow a pale green. He had felt a faint pounding in his head but now he realized it was a voice. It was a deep voice. Unfamiliar and right at home all at once. It was like hearing your own voice for the first time. He couldn’t make out what it was saying, but still he smiled. He knew this voice meant power. He thought of his enemies and the strength they had in their numbers. The safety they had knowing that they had each other. He had thought himself all alone, but now he knew he would never be alone again.

Instead he would become what the people had called him. He would be the words that they spat at him like venom from their fangs. He would be the villain they wanted to fight, and in doing so be their hero. He would finally beat suffering. He would break through space and time and he wouldn’t do it using science. He would do it using goodness. He would use the ancient power that was revealed to him. It was his birth right. They called him a tyrant and an abuser of magic. They called him a witch king and that’s exactly what he would give them. 

He walked from his study to his balcony, book cradled in his arms, and he stared menacingly at the town below. The pounding in his head became clearer. He could finally make out the word repeating in his mind. He could feel the weight that had plagued him floating away. Finally, everything had become so clear. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, opened the book and whispered along with the voice a single word: “Lich.”


End file.
